Jealousy
by megelizabethvh88
Summary: Eric goes out with Michael and Helen after filming, and he comes to terms with the emotions that he can't get rid of.


**DISCLAIMER:** This is just a warning that the story you are about to read contains mature content – language and strong sexuality. These are things I feel are in everyday life and because it is in everyday life, it shouldn't be excluded from what we read. Also, I do NOT own any characters (unless said otherwise) in these stories, and of course, some lines may be different than real life. This warning was written for you, the reader, to be prepared for what your eyes may seek, and thank you for taking the time to read my stories. So if you don't like it, then get the hell out of here.

This story includes lyrics to "Mr. Brightside" by The Killers.

* * *

The first couple of weeks were difficult and that was understandable. Six years of marriage had worn away at his life, and he was now in his thirties with nothing to show for it – except for his son, of course. Eric spent a lot of time in the house, as Lyn had taken their son and went to stay with her parents until they started dividing up their property, and he slept and wrote angry letters and drank and smoked grass to try to balance. And now, a month after announcing plans to divorce, Eric found that he was finally okay, that he could handle the idea of not being married his wife anymore. However, he was going to have to try and get back into the social life that he was use to having without her, and that was the difficult thing.

There weren't too many that understood how difficult that would be, as everyone seemed too busy with filming to try and communicate with him about his feelings – lonely, weak, disappointed. And all Eric seemed to hear was everyone asking him where Lyn was and what was Lyn doing. Eric was going to have to do it on his own, despite that it made him tense to and get back into socializing as a newly single man. At least Michael seemed to get that Eric was going to have a very difficult time going out with friends again, and invited Eric out many times. "Come out with us tonight," he offered to Eric after filming one day. They were walking back to their cars after shooting scenes for _Holy Grail_, in the cold and damp weather. "Helen and I are going for dinner tonight, and we would like for you to join us,"

"Oh, I can't," Eric heard himself saying, his voice sounded weak. "I…um, you see – " he tried to think of an excuse.

"There are no excuses. All you are going to do is go back to your room and clean up, then sit around and drink yourself to sleep," Michael replied, observing Eric with eyes so serious. "You might as well drink with good company. Come on now, it will be good for you."

Eric wasn't sure why Michael was so insistent, but he liked that his friend cared so much. It was a nice change from everyone else, who brushed him off so easily. "Okay, I'll go," he agreed.

_I'm coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine_

_Gotta gotta be down because I want it all._

They took a cab from the hotel, all three adults crammed in the backseat together – Helen on the passenger side, Michael in the middle, Eric behind the driver. It had been cool and rainy that late afternoon, so the heat that their bodies made was eagerly accepted. As the cab rolled into town, it was a quiet drive with the exception of the radio and bits of conversation that was shared between Michael and Helen. Eric didn't want to interrupt them and their perfect routine, their perfect almost ten year marriage – "And how is Lyn?" Helen leaned forward to look around her husband. "Have you heard much from her?"

She just had to ask, almost a reminder. "No, Helen, I haven't heard much from her recently," Eric said in a monotone voice to the cab door at her side.

They ate at a small restaurant, one with plain white tablecloths and candles, and the menus had two pages of wines. They ordered drinks and their dinners, and then the conversation picked up. It was no longer about Eric's ex _life_, but it was about filming and locations, ways that the actors kept themselves entertained between takes and how they struggled to keep warm when kneeling in mud and soggy grass, which one the two Terrys was a better director. Eric watched his friend conversing with his wife, saw how they interacted with each other, and he couldn't help but feel jealous. Not just because he was witnessing one of the best, longest lasting marriages, not because his own marriage was fading, dissolving completely crumbling before him…but because of a kiss.

_It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?_

_It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss._

Eric had made the first move shortly after the start of filming _Do Not Adjust Your Set_, back in nineteen sixty-eight. They walked to the bathroom together and used the urinals, side by side. Neither had thought, or cared enough, to put one between them. The conversation continued, urinals flushed, zippers closed up again, and Michael went to the sink to wash his hands. He hadn't noticed that Eric remained frozen, watching Michael who was still talking as if they were still walking side by side. He had been attracted to his co-worker from the moment they met; it was the strangest thing, as he liked women and knew that Michael was married to Helen. But that didn't stop him from wishing for and wanting for Michael to notice him the way he wanted, and when Michael looked up at him and asked what was wrong, Eric closed in on him and kissed him, pressing his lips hard against Michael's.

_Oh_, he was surprised to find Michael kissing back and that he liked to kiss back. And that was it – that was what started their romance, and it wasn't supposed to happen, it wasn't planned. Between takes, if they were close enough, hands were held, arms were touched, and thighs were stroked. Lunch was spent hidden behind menus in restaurants kissing or feeding each other in their cars. And every night, Michael went home to his wife, and Eric went home alone. Of course, he started dating a very cute girl that he would one day marry, but he knew that he cared so deeply for Michael. Eric wondered if his lover thought about him while having sex with Helen, the way he did when fucking Lyn. Of course, pretending only went so far, and eventually, they began to –

Not that it mattered. Eventually, there was news that Michael had to share. "It _is_ good news," he started, gently rubbing Eric's arm as they sat in the car eating lunch. "Um…Helen is pregnant."

_Good news_? Eric's face said it all.

Michael continued to express that it didn't feel right to him for his wife to carry his child and believe that he was completely faithful to her, all while he was out fooling around with Eric. He felt that the time had come for it all to end, and it had been seven years since. He had pushed for a marriage to Lyn to distract himself from Michael's absence and Helen's ever growing belly. And then, that fucking _Flying Circus_ show started –

_Now I've fallen asleep and she's calling a cab_

_And he's having a smoke and she's taking a drag_

Eric wasn't drunk; he was tipsy and sleepy as all can be. When he tried to defend his elbow slipping off the table, his chin nearly landing painfully on the table, Helen laughed and Michael looked kindly at him. "Poor thing, he can hardly stay awake. Let's get the check and go back to the hotel. Eric, it's on us tonight."

Of course, Eric tried to protest, but he didn't even see his bill and the next thing he knew, they were outside the restaurant. "I'll get us a cab," Helen told them, and walked to the curb to wave down any of the passing cars. Eric's eyes were watching her, but turned when he was distracted by the smell of cigarette smoke to his right.

Michael was lighting acigarette! What was he doing? He had quit years ago, reportedly after Terry G had nagged at him being so dependent on the white cylinders and comforting smoke. "I thought you were done with that 'nasty habit'," Eric teased, taking out his own cigarettes.

That sweet shy smile of Michael's stretched over his face and he held his cigarette in one hand as the other extended toward his friend to light his cigarette. "With all the nonsense going on with filming, I think I deserve one. Don't I?"

"Oh, indeed, you do," Eric agreed, thinking about how sexy Michael looked when he smoked.

Helen had gotten a cab and called them over. She let Eric in first, then turned to Michael and blocked him before he could slide onto the seat next to her husband. "Oh, honestly, Michael, you just can't quit, can you?" she groaned.

"Sorry," he smirked at her, clearly not apologetic at all.

Eric could see Helen shake her head, but she wasn't mad. In fact, she took the cigarette from his fingers and inhaled a long, deep drag from the end. The ember was glowing orange, almost sparking pure envy in Eric's heart. He pressed his lips together tightly and he didn't know how he was able to remain so silent the whole cab ride back, all while Michael sat so close to both him and his wife, his hand holding Helen's, her kiss continuing to whisper across Michael's cheek. Eric closed his eyes to the image, and he found himself even sleepier and wishing he could sink into his hotel bed and sleep, with Michael's arm curled around his head on the pillow, his fingers in Eric's hair and his _own_ kiss on Eric's cheek –

_Now they're going to bed and my stomach is sick_

_And it's all in my head, but she's touching his chest –_

"Goodnight, Eric," Helen said when Michael opened their hotel room door. She disappeared inside and the light turned on; she could be seen taking off her coat and hanging it in the little closet behind the door.

Eric's room was right across the hallway from theirs, and he started to take out his own key, but Michael's voice stopped him. "I'll see you in the morning then, right?"

"Yes," Eric looked back over his shoulder at Michael, trying to not let the jealousy be heard in his voice. Somehow, he was able to keep it covered. "Have a good night, you two. Don't stay up too late."

He knew what they were going to do once the door closed. The husband and wife would do the same kind of thing that used to happen once Michael closed the door to the hotel rooms Eric would rent. It made a wave of nausea shake through him and Eric swallowed to keep it from exploding from his mouth. Michael didn't seem to notice as he was too busy grinning at the 'up too late' comment. "I'll try not to – "

Helen's voice spoke from deep inside the room. "_Come to bed, Michael_."

Eric bit his lip so tightly, remembering…_oh_! He sighed when he found that there weren't any words on his tongue when he was able to open his mouth. What could he say? There wasn't anything to say, all he could do was remember the past. "Goodnight, Michael," he finally spoke and dismissed himself into his hotel room.

"Goodnight, Eric," he could hear Michael say.

There was an arrangement of scattered glasses and bottles of liquor on his dresser, and Eric quickly filled one of the glasses. The taste was strong and better, but he took another and another, one more, one more. He couldn't even count how many times he had filled the glass. All he knew was that he was trying to erase Helen's voice calling Michael into the room, and his head was hurting and his stomach was feeling sick at the thought of Helen's hands on Michael's chest.

"Go get some ice," Eric told himself. "Go to the ice machine, fill up the bucket, come back to your room, have some water and smoke some grass, then fall asleep. Forget about them, because he has proven that it's easy enough."

The ice bucket was against the wall on the dresser and Eric picked it up, feeling more comfortable with his idea of distracting himself. In a way, he felt silly for getting so upset over it. He knew that he needed to get over the whole situation, as it was a brief relationship that happened years ago. A bit of grass would calm him down enough that he could forget –

_But she's touching his chest now_

_He takes off her dress, now let me go_

_And I just can't look_

_It's killing me and taking control._

Eric had been so distracted by his thoughts that he didn't notice that there was an 'out of order' sign on the door leading to the room where the ice machine was. There was a light on in the room, peeking out from under the door and the little window that the sign covered. Of course, Eric was a curious person, and he lifted the sign to look in, and he regretted doing so when he saw Helen kissing Michael against the wall across from the door. _Damn it_! he thought, his face turned into a scowl. Helen was shifting slightly to one side and Eric could see her hands on Michael's chest, Michael's eyes concentrating on her and she began to unbutton his shirt. Michael's own hands had reached around her and Eric could see Michael's fingers grabbing the zipper of Helen's dress and her back was exposed to Eric then.

Helen was giggling and her hands disappeared between her and her husband – Eric could only imagine she was opening his belt and his pants. Eric's eyes kept watching them even though he knew he should have turned away. "_Don't look, don't look_ – " he whispered to himself. And when Helen knelt down and took Michael in her mouth, Eric's eyes closed so tightly that it hurt. All he could see behind his eyelids was red, and his stomach was doing flips and rolling so hard inside, and his heart was twisting into a tight spiral. When he finally opened his eyes, he could see Michael looking back at him, his fingers making circles in his wife's hair, breathing heavily and there was a slight smile in the corners of his mouth. _Just go_, Eric's mind said, and he lowered the sign.

_Jealousy, turning saints into the sea_

_Swimming through sick lullabies_

_Choking on your alibis._

He _was_ jealous. There was no denying that Eric was jealous that Michael had left him, that Michael loved someone else, that Michael had love life that didn't include him. And it was such a good life – he wasn't alone, he would never be alone. Eric wondered if Helen knew, if she had ever been told, of the brief affair the two men had together. How had Helen never suspected the attraction between them? What were the excuses that Michael had used to cover his absence? Had he ever stumbled over the words, ever choked when leaving to meet Eric? Michael must have been such a good man for Helen to not bat an eye at his overnight stays – it almost made Eric feel guilty.

It had been a difficult separation for them, with both having to pretend that there had never been feelings between the two, and now to hide their disappointment…but Michael seemed to get over it quickly, with more ease, as he had sketches to write and a baby to prepare for. And Eric rushed into a relationship and was married the next year – shortly after, the birth of Michael and Helen's son was announced. And they were working together on another show, which Michael had gotten Eric the job – oh, Michael was a very wonderful man. Perhaps it was for the best that they remained just friends, maybe Eric didn't deserve someone as wonderful as Michael.

_But it's just the price I pay_

_Destiny is calling me_

_Open up my eager eyes_ –

Eric knew that as much as it hurt to see Michael flaunt his love life, he would have to let him go, something that he struggled with for years. And not only would Eric have to let go of Michael, he would have to let Lyn go as well. What the hell was he going to do? His eyes opened in surprise when he heard one of the doors open not too far away, and he could see Neil coming out into the hallway, looking very comfortable in his jeans and a long sleeved shirt that appeared to be made of flannel, and Eric wanted to touch it in his subjective state – he liked how flannel felt under his fingertips. "Hi, Neil," he greeted his friend, noticing the ice bucket in Neil's hands. "The ice machine isn't working. You'll have to go to another floor,"

"Oh. That's no problem, I'll go downstairs," Neil replied nonchalantly and continued past Eric to the elevator, right on the other side of the door and he pressed the button. Waiting for the doors to open, he looked at Eric, who was still pressed against the door. "Want to go with me? We can go have a drink in my room when we get back,"

The material of his shirt had the most amazing look to it, Eric felt like he could see every single little fiber. Oh_ God_, how he wanted to stroke the arm of Neil's shirt until he had worn a spot in the sleeve and could touch his skin. He watched Neil shifting the ice bucket between his hands, noticed how Neil's eyebrows were raised as he waited for Eric to reply. The elevator could be heard rising steadily behind the sealed doors and it was almost there; Eric had to decide between returning to his room to sleep, or the flannel. "I have some grass…we can go in my room," he finally decided.

There was a dinging sound and the elevator doors separated; Neil nodded in agreement. "Fine. I'll go get ice and I'll be at your room in a few minutes. I know you have liquor in your room,"

Words caught in Eric's throat as Neil stepped inside the elevator and when the doors closed, Eric finally blurted out "Fine." But Neil was gone then, and Eric turned to go back to his room. The door closed behind him and he sighed heavily, sliding his fingers through his hair as he understood that he was unsure of what was going to happen. All he knew was that Lyn was gone, Michael was getting a blow job next to the ice machine that wasn't really broken, and Neil was going to be in his room in – there was a knock at his door then, and he found himself sitting on the bed. _How long have I been sitting down_? Eric asked himself, and shook his head as he stood to answer the door.

The ice bucket was held up in the air by Neil, who smiled at Eric. "I've got ice, and I'm ready for that grass. After today, I _need_ – "

_Open up my eager eyes 'cause I'm Mr. Brightside_.

Neil pushed his way into the room, continuing on about the day that had taken place. And as Eric went to close the door, Michael and his wife came into view. Helen was still giggling about something as she unlocked the door, and Michael was looking into the open doorway of Eric's room. He had seen Neil standing outside of Eric's room, holding the ice bucket and whistling as he knocked on the door – what were they going to do? It was getting very late, there was filming to do tomorrow. Helen opened their door and reached for his hand, pulling him into their room to continue their sex, and Michael barely had time to look across the hallway before his wife closed the door. However, they had a second to glance into each other's eyes and see the excitement that they use to see when they were together, and in that second, all Eric wanted was Michael. Even though he loved Lyn, and that their separation was going to be very difficult, all he ever really wanted was Michael. All Eric could hope for was Michael to come back around, and that Neil would be willing to occupy Eric until then. After all, he never claimed to be a saint.

_I'm coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine_

_Gotta gotta be down because I want it all._

_It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?_

_It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss._

_Now I've fallen asleep and she's calling a cab_

_And he's having a smoke and she's taking a drag_

_Now they're going to bed and my stomach is sick_

_And it's all in my head, but she's touching his chest._

_He takes off her dress, now let me go_

_And I just can't look_

_It's killing me and taking control._

_Jealousy, turning saints into the sea_

_Swimming through sick lullabies_

_Choking on your alibis._

_But it's just the price I pay_

_Destiny is calling me_

_Open up my eager eyes 'cause I'm Mr. Brightside_.

When it was oh so early in the morning, Eric was lying awake in bed with Neil beside him, his arm curled around Neil's head on the pillow, his fingers in Neil's hair. In the room across the hallway, Michael was also lying awake in his bed with his wife sleeping soundly beside him. Michael was wondering if this was the price he had to pay, if destiny was playing a cruel trick on him, to bring back romantic feelings for Eric when his wife would tell him after sex that she wanted to have another baby. Staring at the ceiling, he realized then that he could never, never, never, _never_ feel that way again. He had to be saint-like.

_I never I never I never I never._

**THE END**


End file.
